Under My Umbrella
by TehShmexyRamen
Summary: Beauty lies beaneath a simple smile. But it all depends on who the person smiling is, and how much you love this person. This person is sacred and perfect, though they may not realize it. Sweet SXK fic, please R&R, Oneshot.


** Rating: T**

** Couple: StanXKyle**

All I have to say is that I hope you enjoy this oneshot.

The title really doesn't have to do much with the story.

** Please read and review.**

Thank you.

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**Under** _My_ Umbrella

It's cold.

It's wet.

But then again, what do you expect? It's raining outside, and hail is falling from the sky. Very small specks of hail, so when it drops onto your skin, you don't get a heavy load of sting-like pain on your arm. Not that I could really feel anything if a large piece of hail fell onto my arm. My jacket is pretty thick, so I'm pretty damn safe from the frozen rain.

It snowed yesterday.

Now it's almost all melted away, because the raindrops aren't cold enough, thus melting the snow. It should all be ice by morning.

Raindrops are landing onto my face. It's so cold, but it's only a brief sensation. Within a matter of seconds, the drops race down my cheeks, onto the base of my neck, and finally down to the collar of my t-shirt. The t-shirt that lies beneath my strong jacket.

I like the cold, I don't know why, and neither do any of my friends. I can't understand why they _don't_ like the cold. I mean, they don't have to _like_ the cold, but they should at least be able to _tolerate_ the cold. They can't be seen with ought six layers of clothing, plus, like, _three_ pairs of socks. Okay, so maybe I embellished on that a little. But they are over dramatic about the cold weather.

The hail came to a halt, and I'm a tad relieved by this. Though my arms, legs and other body parts weren't chosen as victims, tiny bits of hail seemed to aim for my face. One even hit me so close to my eye that tears started to form. Now that I think about it, it feels like the tears from eye froze onto my cheek.

I lift my gloved hand up, and wipe off the frozen salt drop.

Yeah, this whole road will be frozen early morning. And parents will be forced to work in the safety of their own home. Schools will cancel, and kids will have their own snow day.

We get many snow days here at South Park.

But that's a-okay with me.

High school sucks, anyways.

In high school, students thrive on being popular, they feed on other people's misery, and they pick on whoever is different.

And almost everyone in South Park is, indeed, 'different'.

We're a tad different from your _typical_ high school.

We have more drama.

**Something** new happens _each and every day_.

But I tend to shun the high school world. Anything that has to do about something stupid like, oh, I don't know, whether it's that the top cheerleader had sex with the male biology teacher to score a free A+ on her history test, or if some douche got him or herself killed during some freak car accident the other day from being so drunk that they couldn't see the God damn road.

I don't give a flying fuck.

I just sit back and listen to either my best friend's rants about dear ol' Cartman's retarded antics, or my ipod.

My best friend is more interesting to listen to than my ipod.

He's so cute when he gets so mad that his cheeks turn this pale shade of red. Or he begins to pout.

I'm glad that when he gets mad, he comes to me. He wants to hear what _I_ have to say about it. He wants _me_ to comfort him.

God I love it.

I love him.

In a totally non-queer way, dude.

. . . '_yeah right'_. I think to myself.

I'm thinking all of this while I'm standing out in the freezing cold rain. But somehow, I forget about how cold it is, how depressing and damp the weather is. . .

Because my thoughts are starting to make me feel hot all over. Some strange sensation that I'm still not used to. I can feel my cheeks become warmer, and I can feel myself smiling beneath my half soaked cotton scarf.

The rain is beginning to vanish, or at least it wasn't as heavy as it was when I first started walking. It's starting to sprinkle. I can feel gentle drops of rain resting onto me. I'm already beginning to miss the nice, cold drops on my face, but somehow, I'm relieved again. I don't want to get a harsh cold. If I get sick, I won't be able to see Kyle. Kyle hates getting sick, and he hates being around people that may give him the virus.

I can't help but feel like I'm being obsessive.

Like I'm being selfish.

But I really don't know.

I can see my destination from where I now stand. Stark's Pond.

I know I'm here alone; I planned to come here alone. It's so. . . relaxing here. I can always come here when I feel like I need to calm myself and get away from it all.

I take a seat on a large rock, and I look out to the water to watch the small, peaceful 'horizon'. Right now, it's the second most beautiful thing in the world.

The first most beautiful thing. . .

An image pops into my head. The most beautiful thing in the world isn't a thing. It's a person. And. . .

. . . It's Kyle.

Does this sound cheesy?

I don't think so.

And even if it was. . . what would that matter?

So what if I think my best friend is beautiful?

So what if I think my best friend is the best thing I could ever ask for in my life?

So what if I love Kyle more than anyone or anything else in the world?

He's perfect. I believe he's perfect.

And he is. He _is_ perfect.

He just doesn't know it yet. Nobody else realizes that Kyle Broflovski is the most perfect living thing in all of existence.

Only I have realized this.

And it feels. . . kind of weird.

It almost feels like I'm. . .

Like I'm some faggot.

It almost hurts to feel this way. To be keeping this secret from my best friend.

Kyle and I tell each other _everything_.

But I feel like, if I told him this feeling I get while thinking of him, this feeling I get while being around him. . . He would. . . _reject_ me.

As far as I know, Kyle likes girls.

But I hardly ever see him with one.

He's usually with me.

Suddenly, I'm thinking to myself how Stark's Pond isn't really helping me relax.

"Stan?"

I literally jump at least four feet into the air when I feel something touch my shoulder. I have been sucked out of my 'trance' and back into the real world.

I'm lying face down into a cold-water puddle. I can feel my face freezing off. I feel like, if I got up, my face would shatter into a million peaces. But I don't do it; someone does it for me. A gloved hand makes its way to my face and wipes the cold water off of my freezing face.

I'm glad that the person doing it is the person I've been thinking of this whole time.

A smile makes its way to my face, and my cheeks are possibly a shade of bright pink now.

"You're stupid, Stan. And you're smiling like an idiot."

His voice is playful. We usually tease each other like this. Calling each other stupid, for example.

"Dude, you just scared me. I _feel_ stupid."

"You look stupid."

I can tell he's referring to me being half drenched from the rain I had been walking in for at least forty-five minutes. At least.

He's smiling warmly at me, and I can feel my heart melting away. He has the sweetest smile. It may sound cliché', but he definitely has the smile of an angel. The kind of smile that can, alone, send him to what Cartman refers to as 'Jew heaven'. Though Cartman doesn't think Kyle deserves to go to heaven at all, let alone his smile being the cause of it. But I never told anyone but myself that Kyle's smile is one thing he had to do to send him into heaven. Like I would tell any of them.

"Stan, what are you doing out here? You're all wet, it's cold out, and you're going to get sick!"

I saw that coming. I hardly knew why I was out here, beside to, as I once described, to 'get away from it all'. But what was I 'getting away' from?

"I like it out here. Nobody ever comes to play here on a rainy, cold day. It's calming."

He doesn't buy it, even though I know I sounded pretty convincing.

It's still sprinkling softly.

I tower over him, he's about 5'8 and I'm 6'2. We're normal sized 17-year olds.

He's so thin; I get onto him about that stuff. He eats just as much as I do, but I guess he just has a better metabolism. I'm thin, more like a normal sized-guy. Just average.

Though I don't see how that has to do with anything. Maybe I just like comparing ourselves to each other.

He jabs his index finger into my chest, though it doesn't hurt. But I'm sure it isn't supposed to.

"Look, Stan. The news says that we're probably not having school tomorrow. That means that we have a free day. And it's Monday. If you get sick and I have to sit at home doing nothing but playing video games with my little brother, you're going to be dead, dude."

He gives me a soft smirk, and I return it.

I swiftly grab the hand he was jabbing me with, pulling his body into mine and embrace him. He let out a soft shriek, most likely out of surprise, but he settles into it.

"Then keep me warm so I don't get sick. . ."

I whisper softly into the sensitive area of his ear. He hates it when I do that, because it's his 'weak point'. I've discovered his weak spot long ago, when we were just playing around.

I'm flirting with him now, and it feels so right.

Either he doesn't notice I am, or he doesn't seem to care.

This is different. It is usually now the time where he tries prying himself from my grip, and punches me playfully in the shoulder.

But he doesn't.

Instead, his fingers begin to clutch and run through the fabric of my jacket. He's shivering slightly, and I'm curious about if it is the coldness of my wet cloths, or just me.

My heart begins to beat harder, and I like the way it feels.

My arms are wrapped around his waist, and his are now around my neck.

I like this feeling.

I like it a lot.

Me breathing into his ear is making him flush. He likes it, I can tell.

I blow air gently into his ear, and I can hear him whimper softly into the neck of my jacket. I figure, why not toy with him more?

We've never been this close. I mean, we've hugged and so on, the kinds of hugs best friends give each other, or even brothers. But something about this hug was. . . different, to say the least.

Right now, my whole world was Kyle. Not the atmosphere around me. It was all Kyle. Kyle is bliss.

I lean in and begin to lick and nibble at his ear. His body tenses up, and he begins to whimper more into me. He's trying to hold in something. Perhaps any moans?

"Kyle. . ."

I whisper softly into his ear. I want him to know I'm not thinking of anything or anybody else while I'm doing this.

He knows.

He presses his body into mine, causing the both of us to flush. My thigh is pressing against his, and I feel all warm inside and out.

"Why can't more people be like you?"

It isn't really a question to be answered, but it makes him jump slightly out of shock. But he doesn't pull away. Instead, he just takes his mouth off of my jacket, and stares straight at me. I swear, if he weren't being serious right now, I would have drowned into his beautiful emerald colored eyes.

"Stan. . . do you. . . love me?"

He acts as if he didn't know already. Instead of coming clean with a simple yes, I lean into him and give him an innocent peck on the lips. I then kiss his forehead, fallowing the bridge of his nose, and right back onto his lips. But it isn't a peck this time. Instead, it is a passionate kiss. Oh how I longs to feel his lips fully onto mine. His eyes are closed now, and I close mine as well.

Both of my palms have been placed onto his cheeks, and I'm officially in my Kyle coated heaven. This is the place I've wanted to be in for so long now, even though I've almost been denying it for a good amount of time.

"Ow!"

Kyle shrieks, feeling a good-sized piece of hail fall onto his forehead. I chuckle softly, as I rubbed his forehead with my thumb before placing a gentle kiss where the hail had fallen. It has started to rain heavily again, as well as hailing.

"Where to?"

I ask, offering a hand to him. He gladly laces his fingers into mine, as we begin to walk off, still rubbing his forehead,

"I bet your mom is cooking something, let's go over to your house!"

He suggests. I nod.

A nice cup of cocoa sounds good to me, and a nice, hot meal.


End file.
